


Christmas TV

by trashweasel



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Romance, Slice of Life, comfy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:25:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8967190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashweasel/pseuds/trashweasel
Summary: It's Judy's first Christmas away from home, and she's stuck working the late shift on Christmas Eve. Nick isn't usually one for the holidays, but he might make an exception this year.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick Christmas Episode before the proper sequel to June Hymn. Merry Christmas!

Judy threw the front doors of the ZPD open and hurried inside, heedless of the swarm of snowflakes that pursued her. The sudden warmth of the reception area made her frozen ears throb as they adjusted to the heat. She stamped her feet on the already soaked mat just beyond the door, shaking off slush and fresh powder as she tried to pull the door shut behind her. The wind made that no easy task, and one last gust of cold air snuck in as she finally forced it closed. The naturally temperate city center was the only district of Zootopia without artificial climate control, and this unusually cold winter was starting to make Judy wish she had been stationed in Sahara Square.

She unzipped her ZPD standard issue inclement weather coat and made her way to the reception desk, where Clawhauser sat with a mug of hot chocolate. He glanced away from his phone just as she pulled off her oversized hat. They hadn’t thought to make a winter weather hat for someone her size specifically, so it tended to slip down over her brow from time to time--and, of course, the ear covers on the side were woefully inadequate. 

“Oh, hi Judy!” said Clawhauser. Judy knew that he was on the tail end of an eleven hour shift, but you couldn’t tell that from the way he greeted her. Somehow, the cheetah always managed to seem like he had just started his day. “You done for the night?” 

Judy sighed and thumbed over her shoulder wordlessly. Just then, Office McHorn opened the front door, his hand on the back of a non-plussed and securely cuffed brown bear. The rhino took the suspect off to booking, and Judy leaned her forehead against the reception desk and sighed.

“You assisted with the arrest?” He gave her a sympathetic smile and plopped another marshmallow into his mug.

“No, McHorn did,” groaned Judy. “I’m the arresting officer.”

Clawhauser frowned. “Oh, so that means…”

“Yeah. Booking. Booking and paperwork.”

She was supposed to be going home. She had been so close. It was her last twenty minutes of being on duty, and she somehow managed to catch a bear trying to jimmy the lock of a car door. That last twenty minutes turned into an hour-long pursuit. Now, instead of heading home and enjoying what was left of Christmas Eve in peace and quiet, she would be stuck here until the arrest was processed. And since someone had cracked a window of her cruiser with a thoroughly frozen snowball, she’d had to write an incident report on top of that.

“Well, maybe it won’t take as long as usual,” ventured Clawhauser. He tapped a few keys on his computer and grimaced.

“That bad?”

“There might be a line, is all.”

A line. Right. The booking area was a nightmare. Considering the season, it wasn’t surprising that they had erred on the side of understaffing the department. It took an hour just to get the mugshots taken. The only saving grace was the fact that searching the suspect and taking his pawprint would have to be done by a larger officer. McHorn leaned against the booking desk, making conversation with the hippo who seemed less than concerned with the ever-growing line. She had to wave at him twice to get his attention.

“Can you take it from here? I’m gonna get a jump on my statement.” 

She drummed her fingers on the case folder she carried. McHorn snorted and guided the suspect to the search area without a word.

“Thanks,” squeaked Judy as the door banged shut.

So much for her first Christmas away from home. At least, that was her thought as she climbed the stairs to the cubicle farm that housed her desk. It wasn’t terribly late just yet, but it was bad enough that she was stuck in Zootopia at all. Judy had never missed a Christmas back at the burrow, even during her undergrad years. She had tried to barter for time off with other officers, but department tradition was clear: rookies work the holidays.

“Look on the bright side,” her mother had said on the phone. She’d done her best to mask her disappointment. Judy hadn’t been back to the burrow since June. “At least you’re not working on Christmas day. Besides, I bet Christmas in the city will be exciting.”

Tonight, Judy was tired of excitement. She was tired of paperwork. Most of all, she was tired of eight hour shifts that turned into ten and eleven hour slogs. Her old computer whirred to life, and she organized the clutter on her desk to make room for the files she carried. The bear’s record wasn’t particularly interesting. He’d been busted for joyriding a while back, but not much else besides the occasional speeding ticket. So why tonight, of all nights? She sighed and adjusted the height of her squeaky office chair. It didn’t matter much at this point. She pulled up the report template and got to work.

Judy awoke with a start when her phone buzzed. She blinked a few times, sat up, and checked her texts. As expected, it was Nick. 

“How’s work? You almost done?”

She glanced at the last line she had written. “After which, the suspect fled south on wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww”. She must have nodded off around then.

“Could be better. Hopefully done soon!” she replied. She set her phone down, then picked it back up. “Exhausted, though.”

After a few more minutes of report writing, her phone buzzed again.

“Still on for tonight?

“Definitely.”

“Just let me know when you’ll be done.”

“Sure thing.”

She started typing a question, but erased it. Instead, she sent “Tell your mom I said hi!” and tucked her phone in her pocket. 

They’d have time to talk later. For now, she had to focus. She rubbed her eyes and tried to concentrate once again on the unforgiving light of the computer monitor. 

This wasn’t going to work. 

She shoved her desk to send her chair rolling back and hopped up to her feet. If this was going to get done, she was going to need some coffee.

They were out of coffee. 

No, they weren’t just out: someone had taken the coffee can out of the break room pantry, finished it off, and put the empty can back on the shelf. 

For a second, Judy just stared at the dusting of coffee grounds at the bottom of the container, dimly aware of the fact that the fluorescent light overhead was flickering. She pushed a chair to the pantry and stood on it, straining to catch a glimpse of an unopened can. Nope, no one had replaced it, either. 

Right, that administrative assistant probably had the week off. 

She sighed and lowered herself down from the chair, taking the empty can with her. It landed in the recycling bin with a satisfying metallic thud. This night wasn’t going to get the better of Judy Hopps.

Bundled once again in her winter gear, she trudged back through the hall, down the stairs, and past reception.

Clawhauser looked up from his phone with a grin. “Judy! Done for the night already?” 

“Nah, just making a coffee run.” She tugged her scarf up over her nose as she made her way to the entrance.

“Oh. Y’know, we have free coffee in the break room that’s actually pretty g--”

“We’re out,” she deadpanned, voice muffled by the thick material as she pushed open the door and stepped into the night.

The snow had stopped. That was the first thing she noticed about the frozen outside world. The second was the relative hush that had descended upon the city. The noise never ceased, not really, but muffled by snow as it was, it came close. The only indication that the roads weren’t completely empty was the distant rumbling of a snowplow. Most mammals would be at home, or at least taking shelter from the recent snowfall. It was nothing compared to Tundratown, of course, but it still was more than Downtown Zootopia had seen in years. A few kids had ventured out to the small park across the street from ZPD headquarters, and the construction of snow forts was already well underway.

Judy didn’t linger to admire the view for long. Snarlbucks was usually open late, but with her luck, they probably would have closed early by the time she got there. She pulled her sagging hat up out of her eyes and set off down the sidewalk, the fresh snow crunching under her feet with each stride. The wind had died down from earlier, but it sent a shiver through Judy nonetheless. She tugged the zipper of her coat up even though it was already fully zipped. The cafe was just a few blocks away, but the cold made it feel like miles. She shoved her hands in her pockets and pressed on.

Before long, she spotted the electric green glow of the Snarlbucks sign at the end of the block. She quickened her pace at the sight of it, and her hat immediately slipped down once again as she looked up. Judy grumbled as she adjusted, then gasped and stumbled to the side as she finally got it out of her eyes. The Artic fox she had nearly collided with blinked at her in surprise.

“Sorry! I didn’t hear you,” said Judy. The vixen’s footsteps had been virtually silent in the snow. “My hat fell down, and--”

“It’s fine.” The fox smiled down at her warmly. She opened the cafe door and held it open for Judy. “Here, after you.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Judy pulled off her hat as soon as she made it inside. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, relishing the warmth and the smell of fresh coffee. The bells on the door jingled as the white fox shut it behind them. Judy tugged her gloves off and breathed into her cupped hands. After a second, she realized the vixen was still behind her, waiting for her to take her place in line. She glanced back at her and nodded at the short queue of mammals.

“You first this time,” said Judy. “I’m still defrosting.”

The vixen gave her a congenial nod and scooted around her. Judy tucked her hat under her arm and massaged the tips of her ears, trying desperately to coax some warmth back into them. She unzipped her coat, unraveled her scarf, and checked her phone. Three missed texts, all from Nick. The door jingled open again, and the enormous buffalo that stepped through it almost startled her enough to make her drop her phone. She scurried out of his way and joined the line. 

After a moment of glancing idly at the menu, she fished her phone out of her pocket. She was halfway through a response to Nick’s barrage of texts when the vixen spoke up.

“So, are you working late tonight, officer?” 

“Hm?” Judy glanced up at her, then down at her phone, then back at her. “Oh, yes. Just finishing up some paperwork, though. It shouldn’t take too much longer.” She dropped her phone into a cavernous coat pocket without finishing the text. “At least, I hope.”

The fox nodded. “Of course, of course. Well, I know how that is. This time last year, I was working overtime on a big project and my husband was traveling on business.”

“Both of you? Ouch.”

“I know. Government work, right?” she said with a wry smile. She meticulously unwound her bright red scarf and let it hang around her neck. “You aren’t working tomorrow, are you?”

“No, and they couldn’t pry me out of bed tomorrow if they tried.” The pair shuffled forward with the line. “Oh, you’re up.” She nodded at the register.

The fox turned to fact the cashier. “A medium latte and a small black coffee, please. And,” She nodded back to Judy. “Whatever she’s having.”

“Oh, you don’t have to--”

“Hush, it’s Christmas,” she said with a good-natured lilt.

“But…” 

The weary cashier looked down at her expectantly. “Uh, just a small coffee is fine. One cream one sugar.” Judy’s once-frozen ears now burned. 

She quickly dug her phone out of her pocket, leaving the fox to finish up the transaction. She had a new text. This time, she was greeted by a picture of Nick wearing a prickly-looking, sweater emblazoned with a large “N”. It was clearly homemade, and it was the ugliest thing Judy had ever seen. 

“Oh, wow,” she muttered with a smirk. She started her response, but her train of thought was interrupted by a pointed throat-clearing from the buffalo behind her. The fox had already stepped to the side to wait for their drinks. Judy mumbled an apology to the buffalo and joined her.

“Thanks, by the way,” said Judy. “You don’t know what kind of night I’ve had.”

“Don’t mention it. I know the city can be crazy this time of year.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. It’s not exactly the Christmas I’m used to.”

“Not exactly like home, is it?” She paused. “I’m sorry, look at me assuming that you’re not--”

Judy shook her head. “No, no, you’re right. Bunnyburrow. First Christmas away from home and everything.”

“Right.” The fox nodded, a thoughtful frown on her face. For a moment, the pair lapsed into an uncertain silence. The buzz of Judy’s phone finally broke it.

“Oh, that’s probably my partner,” she laughed. “I’m meeting him after work,” she added. 

Her ears perked up at that. “Oh!” said the fox, clasping her hands together. “Lucky guy.” She hesitated, her eyes drifting to the ZPD insignia on Judy’s coat. “Your, ah, professional partner, or--”

“What? Yes. Police partner.” Why did they keep this cafe so warm? “We’re probably just going to watch some cheesy Christmas shows or something.”

“I see.” The fox’s polite expression remained, but her briefly narrowed eyes didn’t escape Judy’s attention. “Well, that sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Yeah.” She smiled to herself. “I don’t think he’s really the holiday type, though.”

“My husband wasn’t either at first, but he came around.” The tired-looking barista wordlessly set three cups on the counter and turned back to his register. The vixen handed Judy her coffee before taking her own cups. She studied her latte for a second and rolled her eyes. “They never spell my name right,” she sighed with a conspiratorial whisper. The pair bundled back up and made their way to the door. 

“Well, back into the cold” said Judy, peering through the window into the night.

“Afraid so.” The fox shouldered the door open carefully, a drink in each hand, and the pair stepped out. “Well, stay warm, officer. And merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. And thanks.” 

The wind that had frozen Judy’s ears so thoroughly before had died completely, and the night was as still as any Judy had ever seen. As she made her way back, the snow sparkled and gleamed in a dazzling array of colors from the strands of lights that adorned the shops she passed. She couldn’t remember if they hadn’t been lit before, or she simply hadn’t noticed. A single taxi puttered down the road beside her, slowing to see if she was a potential fare before turning the corner. Before long, she was once again passing the small park in front of ZPD headquarters. The small village of snow forts had turned into something of a warzone, and the out-of-breath, snowball-battered kids sat together in its ruins chatting amiably. She took a long sip of coffee and headed inside.

Back at her desk, Judy unbundled once more and plopped back down in her chair. She took another sip of coffee and regarded the stack of paperwork on her desk with a sigh. The harsh light of the monitor made her squint for a second, but she scooted her chair closer to her desk and settled in. Enough with the distractions. 

After a few keystrokes, she remembered that she hadn’t actually read Nick’s last text. She reached for her phone and pulled it up.

“Mom’s calling it a night. Gonna head over and let myself in.”

That didn’t really call for a response. Considering how much time had passed, he was likely there already. Judy had given Nick her spare key for safekeeping months ago, and he had started abusing the privilege almost immediately. She didn’t mind, though. While her current apartment was a big improvement over the broom closet she had occupied when she first moved to the city, she had started to find it depressing in the last few weeks. The tiny tabletop tree she had set up as her lone Christmas decoration hadn’t helped. It would be nice to not come home to an empty apartment, especially tonight. 

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed twice in quick succession. Without looking up, she reached over and turned it off. After almost an hour of non-stop typing, she was just about done. She swiveled in her chair and lobbed her empty coffee cup at the trashcan, but it bounced off the lip and rolled a few feet away. Getting to her feet, she nabbed the delinquent cup and chucked it into the bin at point-blank range. Judy turned back to her computer and froze.

The screen was a sickly blue. Her ears drooped the second she saw it. When did she save last? She couldn’t remember, and that didn’t bode well. She climbed back in her chair, restarted the computer, and put her head down on her desk. 

The only thing keeping her here at this point was some random jerk who decided to throw a frozen snowball at a cop car for no reason. And the bear? If his record was anything to go by, he was most likely breaking into the car to take it for a spin for an hour or two before ditching it. Did they just forget that they were living in a society or something? Didn’t they feel any kind of social responsibility?

Her computer was taking ages to reboot. Judy couldn’t even remember what time it was. She sighed and reached for her phone. The time didn’t immediately appear when she unlocked it. She had turned it off, and she was dimly aware that her exasperated sigh over the fact was a bit much. It sprang to life in a few seconds, and Judy shot an accusatory glare at her desktop computer. The old thing sounded like it was trying to grind concrete. 

Okay, it wasn’t quite as late as she thought. At least there was that.

She checked her notifications. She figured she had missed a few texts, and she was right. But that wasn’t what caught her eye. She had missed a call from Nick. Nick never called, just texted. Why would he--

Oh, right. She had promised to keep him in the loop, hadn’t she?

She checked her text log. Yeah, that was hours ago, too. She leaned back in her chair and let out a long breath, and her computer screen finally blinked to life. She glanced up at it, then back down at her phone and made the call. He picked up after a couple rings.

“Hey, Nick,” she said in a pained voice. “Sorry.”

“I was worried you were frozen in a ditch somewhere, Carrots. Or worse, standing me up.”

“Standing you--that doesn’t even make sense. You’re at _my_ apartment.” She could hear the tv on in the background.

“Whatever. Point is, you’re gonna miss Rudolph.”

Judy sighed and pulled up the saved half of the incident report. “I’m almost done. Someone cracked the cruiser window, so I have to fill out a damaged equipment form.”

Nick groaned. “Fluff, no one even reads those. They’re not even going to do anything about it for like a week anyway.”

He was probably right, at least about the last part. “I know, I know, but I can’t just--”

“Sure you can. Just finish it later.”

She mulled it over. “Okay. But I’m at least going to e-mail the depot supervisor about it.”

She heard Nick chuckle on the other end. “Deal. Just come on home.”


	2. Chapter 2

Judy wasted no time packing her things and donning her coat. With one last glance around the empty office, she turned off the lights and went downstairs. At reception, Clawhauser was gathering his things as well. Judy paused at his desk to wrap herself up in her scarf.

“Actually done this time, huh?”

“Mhm.” She narrowed her eyes at the hat she held, but put it on anyway. “You too?”

“Fifteen more minutes,” sighed the cheetah, leaning forward at his desk and resting his face in his hands. He tore his gaze from the door and looked down at Judy. “Let me guess, you’re going straight to bed as soon as you get home.”

Judy brushed some imaginary dirt off her hat. “Actually, I have plans.”

“Really?” Clawhauser sat up. “You look exhausted. No offence.”

She sighed. “I am.” She gave her hat one more useless adjustment, put it on, and started for the door. She pushed the it open and glanced back. “Merry Christmas, Clawhauser.”

“Merry Christmas! And tell him I said hi!” 

She froze for a second in the doorway, then stepped out into the night. 

The walk back to her apartment usually only took Judy about ten minutes, but the trampled snow and ice along the way made the sidewalk a slick, treacherous hike. The snow forts were now a ghost town, and a lonely snowmammal stood guard over the frozen park. Even through the scarf, Judy’s breath floated out in small clouds of condensation. Her feet ached enough from the cold; being on them all day at work only compounded it.

Truth be told, if Nick wasn’t already at her apartment, she probably would’ve been in bed as soon as she had her coat off. She could still cancel. She could tell him that she was just too tired from work, too drained from the week to hang out. She could tell him that she just wanted to get some sleep and avoid thinking about her family enjoying an enormous meal together tomorrow while she would be alone with a microwave dinner. She could tell him that she could stop by his place in the morning, you know, if he was free. 

But that would make today just another bad day at work.

She stopped in front of her door and fumbled with the keys. Her hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment. Had she remembered to move Nick’s gift from the kitchen table to her bedroom? Probably. She could tell through the door that her tv was already on, but it was barely audible. The sudden thump of something hitting the floor was significantly louder. She pushed the door open.

Nick was sprawled on the living room rug next to an overturned chair and a few scattered Christmas ornaments. He sat up with a grimace. 

“Nick, are you okay?” She tossed her hat in the general direction of the table and rushed to the side of the fallen fox. 

“Perfect timing, Carrots,” he said in a strained voice. “As usual. But hey, I got it.” He pointed up at the star that sat perched atop the Christmas tree in the corner. The tree was a few heads taller than Nick, and it more than dwarfed the tiny tabletop tree that adorned her coffee table. 

“Where did you get that?” she said, gazing up at the twinkling tree. 

“My mom still has a few boxes of Christmas stuff back from when she had the house. She never uses it all, so she said I could borrow some.”

He gestured at the tree with a flourish. “Well?”

After a moment, she found her voice. “Well, I love it.”

“Wait, I’m not done.” He strode over to the light switch and flicked it off so that the tree and tv were the only sources of light in the room. He crossed the room and bent down, reaching for something on the other side of the couch. “There we go.” 

In an instant, strands of lights sprang to life all around them, stretching from the kitchen to the living room and bathing the pair in vibrant, shimmering colors. Nick leaned against the wall and said something, but it was lost on Judy. She turned in a slow circle, taking in the sight of her transfigured apartment. She opened her mouth to say something, but her voice caught in her throat. Nick joined her in the center of the room.

“Merry Christmas, Carrots.”

She turned and hugged him, pressing her face into his chest and dampening his shirt with unwept tears. “Merry Christmas,” came her muffled reply. 

Nick gave her a squeeze back. “Wow, okay, you’re freezing. Go change into something warm and I’ll make us some tea.”

She loosened her grip and looked up at him. “Sounds good to me.” She retreated to her miniscule bedroom and tossed on a pair of pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt. The gift she had gotten for Nick still sat on her bed, a mess of colorful wrapping paper and too much tape. Well, it probably looked as good as it was going to get. She’d have to remember to go with a gift bag next year. She picked a stray piece of tape off the corner and winced as a bit of the flimsy paper came away with it. 

Definitely gift bags, then.

When she returned to the living room, she was greeted by the pleasant burbling of the electric kettle and the stilted dialogue of whatever classic Christmas movie played on the audienceless tv. After a quick glance at the kitchen, she stashed the gift under the tree Mrs. Wilde had provided. There was already a present nestled under it, tucked away near the back. She reached for it, but stopped and stuck her present to Nick just behind it. Her gift to him was bigger, but now you couldn’t see it without getting on eye level with it.

She took a step back and looked at the tree. It was tall, slightly dusty, and obviously artificial, with a top segment that bent ever so slightly to the left. It could easily be the same tree that Nick grew up with as a kid. The ornaments were a combination of classic bulbs and baubles and kitschy homemade knickknacks. One near the bottom of the tree caught her eye. The back said “Nick, age 8”. The front was a picture of Nick as a kit sitting cross-legged at the base of a Christmas tree. Next to him sat a bespectacled fox that she didn’t recognize. Judy’s ears perked up as she heard her electric kettle switch off, the water finally reaching a rolling boil. She got to her feet and joined Nick in the kitchen.

Nick was carefully pouring water into a pair of mugs, the 50th Anniversary Bunnyburrow Carrot Festival mug for her and the ZPD mug for himself. He always picked those two when he made their tea, the ZPD mug because it was the biggest one she owned and the Carrot Festival one because he loved teasing her over it. Admittedly, the portrait of a bunny farmer hauling up a smiling carrot that adorned the mug was pretty poorly drawn. She sat on the counter opposite him and took her mug. 

“Okay, Wilde, I’ll admit it. You did alright.”

He raised his mug in salute and took a sip, then sputtered out the near-boiling liquid. “Right, still hot.” They both took a second to blow on their tea.

“But seriously, I know this isn’t your thing, but this means a lot to me. So thanks.”

“Who says it’s not my thing?”

“Come on, you didn’t even want to celebrate your birthday. And suddenly all this?”

Nick took another, more careful sip of tea. “So it wasn’t my thing before. I can have new things.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he mimicked her expression with a smirk. “It’s allowed.”

She rolled her eyes and cracked a smile of her own. “That’s fair, I guess. Tell your mom I said thanks.”

“Will do.”

“How did tonight go, anyway?”

Nick eyes drifting toward the ceiling. “It was good. I think she still wants me to move back in, though.”

“Did you say yes? It’d be cheaper.”

“Carrots.”

“No more doing your own laundry.”

“Carrots.”

“And hey, you wouldn’t have to cook.”

“ _Carrots_.”

“I’m just saying.” She let him pretend to be annoyed for a second. “This was, what, the fourth time you’ve been back over there, right?”

“I think.”

“And you’re still glad you called her?”

He set his mug down on the counter. “Yeah. I am.”

She paused. “Have you asked about him yet?” Judy felt her heartbeat quicken just asking the question.

“Not yet. I will, but not yet.” He sighed, and for the first time tonight, Nick looked tired. “I know, I know, I said I was going to. But....” He plucked the strand of lights that hung over his head like a guitar string, making the points of color reflected on the countertop sparkle and dance. “It’s Christmas Eve. She was just so glad that I was there at all. I didn’t want to spoil the mood.”

Judy nodded. “Makes sense.”

Nick reached over and switched off the overhead kitchen light, leaving the colorful, still-dancing Christmas lights as their only source of illumination. “That’s better. So, what about you? Have you heard from your folks lately?”

“It’s been a crazy week for them, I think. I’ll call them tomorrow.” She checked the time on her phone. As late as it was, her parents were likely still awake, stealthily coordinating the distribution of gifts with the help of Judy’s older siblings. She still had a battered copy of last year’s organizational chart somewhere. 

“You know, you could come with me to my mom’s place tomorrow. If you want to.”

Judy blinked at him in surprise. “Oh! I mean, if that’s okay with your mom.”

“It was her idea, actually.”

“Then yeah, definitely.”

“Okay, then.” He looked down at his empty mug and was silent for a moment. “It’s weird,  
isn’t it?”

Judy set her phone on the counter. “What is?”

“It’s weird that we’re here right now. Any other year, you’d be at home, right?”

She nodded.

“And any other year, I’d be…” he furrowed his brow. “Well, somewhere. But we’re here.” She cocked her head at him a moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut in again before she could say anything, shaking his head with a chagrined smile.

“Nevermind. Come on, let’s see what’s on tv.” 

Judy caught him in a hug from behind before he made it out of the kitchen, keeping her  
arms locked around him as he turned to face her. “I’m glad that things are going well with your mom.”

“Thanks, Fluff.”

“And I’m sorry I forgot to text you back earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

After a pause, she looked up at him. “I’m glad that we’re here.”

Her words hung in the air a moment.

“Me too.” 

For the second time that night, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He smelled not-unpleasantly like the artificial tree he had struggled to set up, like something that had been hidden away in storage for far too long. The window rattled in its frame as the winter wind whistled past it with a renewed life, but the cold seemed worlds away. 

Nick’s eyes drifted up, and Judy’s followed them. He glanced back down with a smirk when she saw it. A small, green sprig hung from the archway by a red bow. She met his eyes, wondering in the back of her mind if he noticed the sudden hitch in her breath. For a moment, they were still.

“Nick.”

“Judy.” He pulled her the slightest bit closer.

“Thats…”

“Cheesy, I know.”

“...Not mistletoe.”

His eyes widened, and after a second, he snapped his gaze back to the tiny bundle of leaves above them.

“You mean that’s--”

“Ilex Aquifolium. Holly.”

“Holly,” he repeated, his ears flattening.

His sudden, sharp bark of laughter made Judy jump. He released his hold on her and doubled over, cracking up so hard that tears were already forming in his eyes. He turned aside to compose himself, and Judy only then realized that she was gripping the front of his shirt.

“That’s, that’s the funniest--” was all he managed to get out before dissolving once more into hysterics. “I can’t breathe.” 

He stumbled across the room like a melodramatic actor crossing a stage and threw himself onto the couch, lying on his back with an incredulous grin on his face. 

“Wait, Nick, come back!” Judy crossed the distance in an instant and jumped onto the unoccupied portion of the couch. “I’m sorry!” She leaned over him and nudged his still-shaking shoulders. “Come on, do over.” 

Nick propped himself up on his end of the couch, then sat up as she inched closer. “Nope, ya blew it, Fluff,” he chided. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to his side. “Now you have to wait for New Year’s Eve.”

“You’re kidding.”

He picked up the remote of her ancient tv and and started flipping through channels. “Anyway, what should we watch?”

She open her mouth to say something, but refrained when Nick put his arm around her shoulders and shot her a sidelong glance. She made a show of rolling her eyes dramatically, but gave him a begrudging smile anyway. She leaned her head on his shoulder and nestled closer to him, her eyes once again tracing the strands of colorful lights that Nick had hung around her apartment.

“Anything’s fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!


End file.
